


Fluttering Fever

by widdlewed



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur is a jealous child, Crack, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Protective Knights, Sick!Merlin, all of them - Freeform, sir leon knows more than he lets on, they are all dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:47:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9082939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/widdlewed/pseuds/widdlewed
Summary: Merlin falls ill and the knights + Arthur decide to be his bed nurses to nurse him back to health while Gaius is in another village. Pure fluff. Set in Season 5 before shit went to hell





	

It had started with a headache. If anything, Merlin allowed the fault to lie with the winter weather that seemed to slip past any heating spell he casted on himself during the shivering nights. Upon waking up to Gaius calling for his assistance, Merlin was instantly bombarded with a horridly loud banging in his temples.

He groaned, resting his head down against his cot as he pulled his knees up under himself, curling into a small ball. The banging morphed into pounding, vibrating from his temples to the back of his eyelids. A flash of heat coiled through his body, racking him with violent shivers before flashing out again, licking his flesh before slinking away once more.

“Gai-us!” Merlin croaked, his voice barely audible. Footsteps were heard, his door creaking open as Gaius walked up the steps.

“Merlin, what are you doing in bed still?” Gaius asked, stepping into the room. He froze mid-step, eyes widening as his gaze went to everywhere. Objects, such as loose shirts and little trinkets collected on journeys, floated and hovered in the air, twirling around lazily.

“Merlin?” Gaius asked out, watching as the objects wavered before toppling to the ground. Merlin groaned again in the bed, his hands moving up to tangle in his slightly damp locks. Gaius hurried over, touching the back of his knuckles to Merlin’s forehead. He drew back quickly, a frown marking his lips.

“You’re running a high fever,” Gaius stated and looked back around the room, noticing how objects shook and lifted off a few inches before plopping back down. “From the looks of it, your magic’s a little feverish itself.” Merlin gave a grunt and rolled onto his side, curling into a ball as he peered up at Gaius through glossed over blue eyes.

“It-hurts,” Merlin forced and Gaius frowned again, nodding his head. He patted Merlin on the shoulder before tugging the blankets up and around Merlin, moving to the door again.

“I’ll inform Arthur you won’t be able to attend your duties today,” the old man spoke and left Merlin to burrow his head into his arms.

 

* * *

 

“Merlin, sick?” Arthur questioned, looking at his court physician. Gaius nodded, shoulders straight as he stood before the knights of the round table.

“Can idiots get sick?” Arthur questioned before looking down at the table, Gaius’s signature glare shutting up any more smart comments from him.

“On the contrary, sire,” Gaius spoke in his clipped tone, “this seems to be the first time I’ve ever seen the boy sick. And I’ve known him for quite some time, my lord.” Arthur frowned, trying to think of the times the boy had come down with a fever that wasn’t the result of being poisoned. Nope, couldn’t think of a time.

“Is he alright?” Mordred questioned softly, looking from his spot by Elyan, who also looked up to Gaius in question. Gaius bowed his head, thinking.

“That, I can’t be for certain of. I won’t be able to take care of him – I’m going to an out skirted village today to see to a odd illness popping up,” Gaius stated as he tucked his hands behind his back. Now to watch it unfold.

“Odd illness? Did Merlin catch it?” Sir Gwaine chirped up, eyebrows scrunched slightly. Gaius shrugged, face serious.

“I can’t know. Until I go to the village and see to their symptoms and such, I can’t say if it is a normal fever or not,” Gaius stated. Arthur sat back, eyes trained ahead into nothing and face stone-set.

“Will he be alright by himself?” Arthur asked, tone closed off. Again, Gaius shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

Mordred shot up, eyes wide and pupils dilated in concern. “My lord,” he turned to Arthur, “I can take care of Merlin. I’ve been around enough sick people my life to know how to tend to them.”

Lies, lies, lies. Magic solved everything.

Arthur’s mouth opened and closed, his face slack.

“Oh yes,” Gwaine jumped up with a smirk, “I can watch our little Merlin as well.” Arthur’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening. Percival, catching on, smiled.

“I too, sire,” the sleeveless knight proclaimed.

“Me as well, my lord,” Elyan stated and stood up, Sir Leon standing up silently. Arthur stared, lips pressing into a thin line while Gwen and Gaius watched in the background, exchanging looks.

“I don’t – why are – no,” Arthur intelligently stated. Because if anyone was going to care for his bloody manservant, it’d be him.

“I don’t know, sire. I do see Mordred the best person,” Gaius piped in. At Mordred’s confused glance, Gaius merely stared knowingly. As if reading his mind, the younger man’s mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape and he nodded. Arthur watched the exchange, narrowing his eyes as an ugly black feeling gripped his heart.

“No need. Merlin can take care of himself. He’s a physician’s apprentice, after all,” Arthur snapped. Gaius sighed, shaking his head.

“Aw, come on Princess,” Gwaine chimed in, slinging an arm around Mordred’s shoulders, “let the boy do it. You really think Merlin – clumsy, airheaded Merlin – can take care of himself? Tell us Gaius, what state is Merlin in?”

“He can barely move,” _and is levitating his entire room,_ Gaius thought dryly.

“See?” Gwaine gestured to Gaius, as if he held all the answers. Gwen stepped in, resting a hand on Arthur’s forearm.

“Just let them take care of Merlin until Gaius gets back. Please?” Gwen asked, leaning forward slightly. Arthur blinked, looking at her to her chest, which he was getting a very lovely view of. Boobs.

“Yes-sure-alright,” Arthur blabbered. Gwen smiled and pecked his cheek, turning to see Gwaine already dragging Mordred to the door. Arthur smacked his forehead, roaring, “I didn’t call an end to the meeting!”

The nameless knights watched on, wondering what was so special about Merlin. Special indeed.

* * *

 

**Gwaine.**

Gwaine, having opted to taking care of Merlin first, blinked at the sight of his dear friend curled into a ball, shivering and huddled in the corner of his cot.

“Merlin,” Gwaine whispered softly, stepping lightly over to the man. He pulled up a chair and settled down into it, reaching out a hand. His forehead felt as if it were on fire. Gwaine drew back his hand, looking worriedly to his friend. What could he do to get his temperature down?

Water. He remember when, as a child, his mother would put a damp rag on his forehead to cool him off and dull the fever. Let’s try that.

Looking for the bucket and cloth was a little harder than Gwaine first thought. You’d think, being in an area with bottles upon bottles of liquid, that there’d be a spare bucket lying around, right? Wrong.

“Potions, potions, book of magical beasts, potions, potions, magic spell book, potions, ahah! Bucket!” Gwaine sat back from one of the cupboards he had been digging through, holding the slightly dusty bucket. He looked around for a cloth, his eyes landing on one of Merlin’s spare neck scarves. He stared at it for a moment before shrugging, grabbing it.

Coming back from fetching water, Gwaine blinked at the sight of Merlin’s room. He could have sworn Merlin’s cot faced the door, not across the window. Huh. He settled down next to Merlin, who had sprawled out onto his back during the time Gwaine was hunting everything down.

“Here Merlin,” Gwaine spoke and rested the damp scarf along his friend’s burning forehead, sucking in a breath as Merlin gave out a strangled breath of relief. Smiling to himself, Gwaine looked up at the sound of knocking. Looks like his time was up.

* * *

 

**Percival.**

He had a reputation – Percival the sleeveless knight. He was strong, brave, and noble. He went into wars with his arms bare and vulnerable. A foolish move for any that weren’t Percival. He was a man – one of the manliest men of all of Camelot.

“Hush, hush, hush,” Percival cooed to the whimpering man before him, running his hand through the damp black hair. Merlin cracked an eyelid open, bleary eyes focusing briefly on Percival before closing again.

“Wh’t you doin’?” Merlin slurred out, snuggling into the touch without realizing it. Percival cracked a smile before humming softly, leaning further on his knees.

“Taking care of you,” he murmured quietly, hand still racking through his hair. He switched the clothes, allowing the dryer of the two to soak while he smoothed out the new damp cloth along the man’s head.  Merlin hummed out, reaching a limp hand to pat Percival’s. Percival stilled, watching silently as Merlin dropped his hand near his head, his chest falling.

A knock at the door drew Percival to look up, seeing Elyan standing there awkwardly, holding up a basket of vegetables. Time for change.

* * *

 

**Elyan.**

Setting down his basket of produce, the knight turned to nod his biddings to Percival. Hearing the door close, he looked around for a cutting board, having no need for a knife as he already had one tucked away in the folds of the cloth nestling around the vegetation. Finding one was easy. Making room to cut and prepare the vegetables was not. Elyan pondered for a moment, wondering if he should move the potions and glass containers around. Maybe. Would Gaius mind? Certainly not if it meant Merlin would get better sooner, right?

Moving the potions and tubes out of the way, Elyan got to work, chopping and washing the vegetables before plopping them in an empty (and clean looking) pot. He started a fire, bustling over to check on his ill ward. Merlin continued to snooze, his head lulled to the side slightly. Elyan nodded to himself before moving back to his cooking.

The door opened, Gwaine popping his head in. His eyes instantly fell to the pot cooking over the open flames, his tongue darting out over his lips.

“Is-will Merlin be able to finish all that?” Gwaine asked, eyeing up the pot. Elyan glared, face stone-set.

“Go Gwaine,” Elyan spoke and Gwaine gave a huff, closing the door. Merlin rasped a laugh from his bed, Elyan looking over to see him staring at him.

“Sm’lls ‘ood, comes runnin’,” Merlin joked, causing Elyan to laugh as well. Merlin looked around for a few moments, as if seeing it he was needed, before slipping back into sleep. Elyan watched, reminded of his little sister when she was a child, sick and weak in bed crying for soothing. He glanced to the flames before moving over, sitting heavily on the chair by his bedside. He patted Merlin on the shoulder before changing his rag, humming.

A while later the soup was placed in a bowl and stationed on a little book-stand near Merlin’s bed, steam coiling in the air as the heat fought to stay in the liquid. A sharp knock at the door caused Elyan to stand, opening the door to greet Leon.

* * *

 

**Leon.**

Leon was serious. Leon was silent. Leon was the man who, without question or doubt, did as he was told. Leon was also someone who repaid people in kindness and whether Merlin was a servant or a king, Leon would do all he could to repay the lad for all his kindness.

Settled beside Merlin, Sir Leon, proud knight of Camelot who’d probably seen it all, couldn’t help but wonder how a measly fever had rendered the great manservant of Arthur Pendragon useless. He’s dealt with being poisoned more times than they could count, being attacked by bandits, being in tavern fights (from what he heard), kidnapped (on multiple occasions), faced a dragon (still wondering on that one), accused of witchcraft (even confessing to it once, blasphemy!), accused of helping a cursed druid girl escape her master (he later found that any mention of the event was off limits after Merlin almost had a murderous breakdown), possessed and controlled by Lady Morgana (now the cross-bow incident made a whole lot more sense now, didn’t it?), and dealt with the Knights of Camelot, possessed by an enchanted beast, roughing up on him.

But a fever left him weak and useless and in pain in a cot, crowded by the knights that had so many times before treated him as if he were nothing but a servant. He was, but he was their friend. A friend who protected their King more than anyone.

Sir Leon wasn’t blind. He had an idea of just how many times Arthur’s good luck was because of their big-eared little brother.

Leon leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and eyes trained on the slightly unsteady breathing of the young man before him.

“So much,” Leon whispered, “so much you do. And for what?”

“Yo’re friends’ip,” Merlin explained, his eyelids fluttering before stilling. Leon nodded, hanging his head to hide his some-what giddy smile.

“Not disturbing anything, am I?”

Leon looked up to see Mordred standing there, innocent and wide eyes. Leon shook his head, standing up. As he passed he clasped the younger man on the shoulder, nodding in thanks. Mordred watched until the door closed before he moved, taking Leon’s spot.

* * *

 

**Mordred.**

Merlin’s eyelids fluttered open and he groaned, stretching his stiff, sand-like muscles as he blinked. He froze as he saw a body fall down on him, lips grazing his forehead. He reeled back, pushing himself into his blankets to stare with glossy wide eyes to Mordred, who stared back with a small upturn of his lips.

“Wha-what?” Merlin squeaked out, his voice barely audible. Mordred held up a book titled, ‘Caring for the ill’.

“You were asleep most of the time so I busied myself with some of your books. It said that if you have a fever, contact is a good way to check it. It recommended kissing the forehead…or something,” Mordred explained, looking to the side as he finished his words. Merlin opened his mouth only to groan as a headache slammed into his temples. His hands shot to his head, his back arching up slightly as if it’d cure the pain. A glass vase near them burst. Mordred snapped his head to it before reaching a hand out, running his hands through Merlin’s hair, hushing him.

The door burst open and there stood Arthur, red face and panting as if he had ran. Knowing the man, he probably had. All the way from his bed chambers, to boot.

“I’ll take care of the rest,” Arthur snapped, barely batting an eyelash at the broken glass. He stepped over it, staring at Mordred. Mordred, reading the glare, bowed and slid out of the room. Not without one last look to Merlin. And maybe a quick caress of his magic against Merlin’s consciousness.

* * *

 

**ARTHUR.**

Arthur looked at Merlin, taking in the black eyebrows scrunched up in pain.

“Honestly! Did any of them give you any medicines of sorts?” Arthur asked, looking around Merlin’s room. Merlin gave a weak ‘no’ and curled into a ball, holding his head in his hands. Arthur huffed and bustled around, looking around Gaius’s chambers for anything he thought could help the man in the other room. Finding none he saw familiar he went back to the room in defeat.

“Sorry,” Arthur apologized without thinking. He snapped his head up to see if Merlin had heard him. Thankfully (and painfully) the man was too busy dealing with a headache to even acknowledge someone was talking to him.

Arthur sat down in the chair next to Merlin, looking down at him in worry. Fevers sucked. Horribly. Thankfully the man hadn’t started to vomit everywhere, if he hadn’t already.

Arthur reached out, touching Merlin’s forehead. Still hot. His clothing weren’t looking dry, either. Honestly, what kind of knights didn’t know the basic skills of caring for the sick?

Arthur stood up and, pausing only for a moment, moved to Merlin’s wardrobe. He dug around, pulling out from dry sleep-wear. He turned to face Merlin and his mask of determination fell. He was going to have to strip Merlin of his clothing.

He was going to have to strip Merlin of his clothing.

He was going to have to strip Merlin.

Strip Merlin.

_MERLIN._

“Oh father in heaven,” Arthur breathed out and got to work.

After an embarrassing scene of fumbling Merlin out of his clothing (all the while taking in the scars and paleness of the man because really, how was he pale after all the hunting they did in the summer sun?) he had Merlin buried under a few more blankets than before (break the fever, break the fever, break the fever) and had woke him up to down a bowl of soup. Now he was watching him sleep.

Arthur looked around before sliding his hand in Merlin’s, squeezing it gently. Merlin ‘hrm’ed and Arthur smiled, leaning his elbows on the bed as he watched Merlin snuggle into a ball in his direction.

* * *

 

Gaius walked into the room, towed by Gwen and Mordred, only to stop at the sight before him. Merlin was sprawled out, one arm above his head while the other was held in Arthur’s grip. Arthur was laying on the bed, head resting on the pillow with Merlin’s, their foreheads bumped together. Both were asleep.

Gwen smiled at the scene while Gaius shook his head. Mordred just blinked and nodded to himself, as if having a conversation with his mind.

“How did the sicknesses go?” Gwen asked, following the two out into the main room. Gaius looked at her in confusion.

“Oh yes,” Gaius spoke, as if remembering a long forgotten joke, “it was nothing. Mostly a lie to get a day off.”  


End file.
